


What is Heaven but Another Dimension?

by nancynotruth



Series: Canned Spaghetti 'verse [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Duct Tape, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lots and Lots of Duct Tape, Post-Canon Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Spoilers, i just want everyone to be happy, is that too much to ask???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancynotruth/pseuds/nancynotruth
Summary: The Horror is a being from another dimension. Reginald's tests confirmed that fact, but Ben always knew on some level. Just like Klaus can summon ghosts, he can summon beings from another dimension.At least, he could. Because Ben is gone. Vanya saw him dissolve, cross over into the light. And now an alternate-timeline version of him--some asshole in the Sparrow Academy--is running around with his face.But what is the light, what is heaven, but an alternate dimension? And if there's a carbon copy of Ben running around, one who can summon the Horror...well, there might just be a way to get Ben back after all.Or: What I want/need to happen in Season 3, but pretty much know won't. It doesn't hurt to dream.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Everyone, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Everyone & Everyone
Series: Canned Spaghetti 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931317
Comments: 18
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter One: Ben

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, not_so_sane.

Ben opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. When he was seven, he’d made the mistake of staring into the sun, watching for an eclipse with bated breath and unprotected eyes. For the next three days, he hadn’t been able to read through sunspots seared onto his eyeballs. 

This was somehow worse. Because it wasn’t just his eyes. He was letting his panic get the better of him, letting it constrict his lungs and stomach, mashing his internal organs together. He didn’t know what would happen if the Horror decided to make an appearance. Did his emotions affect the Horror? Did the Horror even _have_ emotions? 

And then he realized that he was still staring into the light. Great idea. Burning his corneas out…that’d really help his panic attack. 

He slammed his eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath, but halfway through, his lungs just stopped expanding. Because apparently the vice gripping his chest and stomach wasn’t a manifestation of his panic, it was an actual _something_ wrapping around his torso like the worst hug ever. His deep, calming breath morphed into hyperventilation. He tried to tear the thing away, just _get it off_ , but his wrists were tied fast behind his back. And the thing around his chest was wrapped so tightly that he didn’t even have room to properly dislocate his shoulder. 

Would that even work on something other than a straitjacket? Ben had hoped he’d never have to find out. 

He hadn’t paid all that much attention to their escapology lessons. What use was knowing how to break zip ties or slowly unravel rope with friction if could summon an interdimensional Horror? He wouldn’t even need more than one tentacle to smash this chair (wood, he was guessing, from the feel of the rungs pressing into his back). If only he could get himself under control, use the panic to sharpen his mind instead of blurring his thoughts. He knew, he _knew_ that this time, his concentration would hold. He’d break out and get back to the Academy, and maybe his father would even say _good job._

Yeah, right.

_Come on_ , he thought to the Horror. _I’ll let you do whatever you want. I won’t even try to control you._ He imagined the tentacles bursting out of his stomach, clawing their way through his ribcage. A bolt of pain surged through him, and for a moment he thought he’d done it. But he was still tied to the chair, and the Horror was a distant throbbing in his lower back. He’d been breathing too deeply, fighting too hard. He hoped he’d only bruised it; a broken rib could really set him back in his training.

“…sure you have everything figured out?” Ben whipped his head to the right, instinctively opening his eyes and searching the impenetrable brightness for the deep voice’s owner. How had he missed the footsteps?

“Do you really think I’d be making this up on the fly?” Ben was momentarily thrown, not that he’d been totally clear headed to begin with. Was that a _teenager?_

“Hey, he’s just nervous,” said a woman’s voice, so soft that Ben had to strain to hear her. A kid and a woman, casually chatting as he sat tied up and helpless. Who _were_ these people? “We all trust you.” 

“Speak for yourself,” The first speaker grumbled. “He doesn’t even trust _himself_.” 

“Need I remind you that I was experiencing the latter stages of Paradox Psychosis?” 

“You tried to kill me!” 

“Lay off, Luther. You’ve tried to kill almost all of us.” 

“Big talk from the guy who deactivated Mom.”

“That was _your_ idea!” 

Luther. Ben closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, doing his best to ignore the pain in his lungs. He was in deep shit. 

He had let himself get kidnapped by that group of lunatics, the ones who thought _his_ dad was _their_ dad, who kept talking about the apocalypse and the sixties and something called the Umbrella Academy. His siblings would never let him forget this. But for once, he hoped they’d come rescue him soon, never mind the humiliation of Number One being rescued by his subservients. He’d never hated the fact that his powers depended on the whims of an interdimensional horror as much as he did right now. 

Before he’d faced the Umbrella imposters, Ben had thought that the Horror would kill anyone. All it cared about was the feeling of blood. But when it came time to fight, the Horror had lain useless. It had tripped up his own family, swiped at their father, even tried to attack _him_ before he had forced it away. Ben had needed weeks to recover, and that was when he’d had the entire Sparrow Academy to fight alongside him. Now, he was bound, alone, and completely at their mercy. 

There was a twisting, sickening sensation in his stomach. One that had nothing to do with the Horror. 

“Guys,” another woman said, right next to Ben. He leaned away reflexively, in the process tightening the thing around his chest and almost crushing his ribcage. His bruised—broken, he thought, it’s definitely broken—rib surged with so much pain that Ben nearly passed out again. He let his eyes close, tried to calm his racing heart. “He’s awake.” 

Instantly, all of the voices quieted. All Ben could hear was ragged breathing (most of it his) and shuffling footsteps echoing off the walls. He had no sense of where his kidnappers were, no idea how big the room was or where the exits were. He’d already failed the first three steps of the twelve step abduction plan that his father had taught him. 

In fact, he’d failed them so badly that he wondered if these imposters had been taught the same plan. 

“Hey, Benny-Boy,” said a voice barely an inch from his ear. He flinched again, with just his head, but he still hated himself for showing weakness.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, wrenching his eyes open against the blinding light, trying to make out their shapes. He was determined to do _something_ right. 

“Oh, nothing from you,” a small, blurry person to Ben’s left said dismissively. Ben couldn’t understand why those vicious, reckless people would spend so much time with a thirteen year old. Maybe he was one of their kids? “Nothing from this you, at least.” 

“All you have to do is sit there,” said the voice near his head. This time, he didn’t flinch, just gritted his teeth and let the hot breath hit him in the ear. “And let us do all the work. Very sexy.” 

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” The low voice—Luther—asked. He hated Luther the most, on principle. _Ben_ was Number One. “I don’t like leaving it all to Allison.” 

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“No! Allison, of course not. I was just…” 

“Doubting my plan,” the kid snapped. The kid was the strategist. How had Ben let these people capture him? “We’ve gone over this a thousand times. I’ve put in failsafes for every eventuality, you made me draw up a spreadsheet, and _now_ you’re trying to change it?” 

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually with Luther on this one. Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

“Let me see, Diego. You took him down, _tied_ him down, and now you’re complaining that there’s nothing for you to do, because you already did it. Your part’s finished, numbskull. Leave the rest to the smart people, okay?” Ben had to hand it to the kid. Patronizing someone twelve times your own size took guts. 

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls, Luther,” the man next to Ben’s head said, in a breathy voice that made Ben want to wring his neck. “Stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to!” 

“Shut up, Klaus,” said at least three people.

“Oh, great,” Ben said. “A cultist.” 

“Oh my god, my cult! They’re still around?” 

Ben didn’t answer. 

“Just because we have different powers,” the soft-voiced girl said, “it doesn’t make some of us smarter than others.” 

“Exactly. Team Zero.” 

“Diego, that is _never_ going to catch on.” 

“Vanya,” the kid said. Did he have any tone other than exasperated? “I wasn’t _talking_ about…you know what? You can kill Klaus if you want, Luther.” 

“And what can I do?” 

“I don’t know, Diego. Throw some knives at the wall. Do a little dance. Whatever you want.” 

Ben’s brain, used to absorbing vast quantities of information at breakneck speed, was stalling out. They were all siblings, right? And Klaus, the cultist, he was one of them. So why had the kid just told Luther to kill him? 

“I thought Allison was going to kill me,” Klaus whined. “And Vanya was going to bring me back. With, like, a shockwave, right? I liked that plan.” 

“You’re just against helping Allison. It’s hard to have so much responsibility. Why shouldn’t I take something off her to-do list?” 

“Hey, I have just as much responsibility! I’m the one who has like, five minutes max to find Ben and talk him into coming with me.”

Ben didn’t understand. They had him already, they’d gotten him to come with them. What else was he supposed to do? _The other you,_ Five had said. Ben had no idea what that meant, but it absolutely could not be good. 

“I’m killing you, Klaus, and that’s final,” Luther said, taking a step forwards. His bicep alone blocked out half the spotlight.

“No!” Klaus’ voice was further away now, but just as annoyingly whiny. 

“Fine, then _I’ll_ kill you. One nick to the jugular, maybe thirty seconds of bleeding.” Ben had only met Diego once, but he knew that someone were to mention knives; it would be Dora’s cousin. 

“Sure, and after I bleed out on the floor, how am I going to magically get enough blood to be alive again? Ever think about that, Number Two?” 

“Just let Luther do it,” the kid cut in. 

“I will choose the manner of my own death, thank you very much! I just wish I had some exotic dancers, maybe a little—”

“I heard a rumor,” Allison cut him off, and every single person in the room fell silent. Ben felt the weirdest compulsion to do anything Allison asked of him. If Allison wanted him tied to this chair, he’d happily stay here forever. “ _I heard a rumor_ that you died.” 

There was a heavy thud, and Ben broke from his weird trance and squinted hopelessly into the light. What was going _on_ out there? 

“I could’ve done it,” Luther grumbled. He sounded a bit hurt, maybe kind of sullen, but not upset. As Number One, Ben never would have let one of _his_ siblings die. Not on his watch. 

“We’re on a tight schedule,” Allison said. She sounded tired. Ben thought he just might hate her more than Luther. “Just put him in a corner or something.” 

Ben couldn’t see anything, but he heard heavy breathing, a few grunts, and the sound of someone’s head hitting the wall. 

“Don’t give him brain damage,” Vanya (apparently) said. 

“There isn’t enough of his brain left to damage,” said Diego. “Plus, he’s already dead.” 

Ben wondered why it had taken him so long. They’d been talking about killing each other, arguing over who got to murder whom, ever since he’d woken up. But hearing that head hitting the wall, the sound of a limp body thumping against the ground, it suddenly sank in. He was a killer, sure, but he only killed the people on the wrong side. The ones who were shooting at him, who had proven their bad intentions, who his father believed should be put down. These people were _murderers_. They’d just killed one of their siblings, right in front of him, and then kept straight on arguing. There was no remorse, no tears, not even a second of silence. 

What would they do to _Ben_? 

He hadn’t thought that anything could scare him, not anymore. He’d thought he knew what fear was, with an eldritch monster from another dimension living in his chest, and every terrifying training scenario and real-life mission he’d been through. But as these people argued and bantered with the dead body of their brother laying in the corner (and had one of them said he’d killed their _mom_?), a white-hot jolt of terror raced through him, like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

These people. This Umbrella Academy. He was completely in their power, and he was completely certain that he wouldn’t be getting out of it alive. 

“What do you want from me?” He tried again, but this time his voice was almost a whimper.

“It’s okay,” said Vanya, stepping in front of the light so that he could see her vague silhouette. “You’ll be okay. We just need to use your powers for a little while.” 

“You need to use the Horror?” He asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. _I would never help you._

“No, we need your ability for interdimensional travel. But again, it’s not _your_ ability, so don’t worry your pretty little head.” He was really beginning to hate that kid. More that he had before, at least. 

“We come from an alternate timeline,” Diego said. “You were there too, or at least some version of you was. You were our brother.” 

“You died,” Vanya said quietly. Not that she had any other volume. 

“The Horror is from another dimension,” Ben said, as defiantly as he could. “Not another timeline. I can’t summon that person you want.” _And I would never be your brother._

“No,” Luther agreed. “You couldn’t. Not if he were in another timeline.” 

“You know how they say that when you die, you go to a better place?” The kid asked, like _he_ were an adult talking to a stupid teenager and not the other way around. Yeah, Ben could think of several very satisfying ways to kill that kid. “Well, it may not be better, but people who cross into the light do go to another place. Specifically, another dimension.” 

“It’s all up to Klaus now.” Allison seemed to be talking to herself, more than anyone else. Ben was glad. If she talked to him, especially if she used _those_ words, Ben knew he’d do anything she asked. “If he can get to Ben in time, convince him to come back…” 

There was a brief silence. Ben didn’t know why they found this occasion monumental enough to warrant a pause in the bickering, when they’d kept going straight through their own brother’s extremely recent death. But it was nice to take a shallow, constricted breath in the quiet, with Vanya blocking the worst of the light. Just a second of peace, to get this raging fear in control. To clear his head, try yet again to summon the Horror, and hopefully break out. 

Like all good things, it didn’t last. 

“While we’re waiting,” Diego said and, with an even sicker feeling than before, Ben recognized the sound of blades being drawn. “How about a game of darts? One point to whoever can pin Klaus’ sleeve to the wall without hitting his arm.” 


	2. Chapter Two: Klaus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus only has three things to do: die, find Ben, and convince Ben that despite the fact he's probably found eternal peace, he should come back to life where everything sucks. All this before God inevitably kicks him out of heaven. Should be easy, right?

Klaus didn’t look for Dave, not this time. His objective (as Five had put it, the little freak) was to find Ben. Their Ben,  _ his  _ Ben, the one who had haunted his ass and annoyed the living—or dying, maybe—hell out of him for over half of his life. Not the designer knockoff, who his family currently had duct taped to a chair in the basement of an abandoned warehouse next to Klaus’ own dead body. 

Trippy. 

Besides, even if he found Dave, he wouldn’t remember the time he and Klaus had spent together in ‘Nam, the love they had shared. All he would see was the weird cult leader his uncle had beat up in a diner. But it didn’t matter (it mattered so _ much _ ) because Dave was not the objective. 

At least Reginald Hargreeves was still alive and well, something that Klaus had never thought he’d be grateful for. But it meant no more awkward father/son shaving sessions, so that was definitely something. 

“Prophet!” A voice called from somewhere behind him. He froze mid-step, one foot in the air and the memory of his heart pounding in his chest. He closed his eyes. Bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would ground him and help him figure something out. But there was no pain, because he was dead. Great. Why hadn’t Five factored his devoted—and apparently dead—cultists into the game plan? He was on a time limit!

“Prophet?” The voice asked again. “Prophet, is that you?” 

Klaus figured that he had two choices. Ignore her completely and hope she’d go away (the Ben plan) or give her just enough attention that she’d feel special and happy (Klaus liked to call that the Vanya treatment). He was running out of time, but he did feel some small responsibility towards his cult. He’d given them some of the best years of his life, after all. 

“Hi,” he said, spreading his arms dramatically as he slowly turned. The woman behind him looked thankfully normal, no ghostly guts or screaming face. He had the dim feeling that he might have seen her before, but there were just so many of them. “Hello…my child.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here!” She said, running towards him so quickly, Klaus could barely register the movement. He lurched backwards, holding his hands up in what he hoped was a gesture of benevolence or something, and not terror. Sure, she looked good, and she seemed nice, but Klaus had too much experience with dead people (and people in general) to trust appearances. “After all this time. We’ve waited for you, Prophet, and we’ve continued your teachings.” 

“Thank you,” he said, giving her his best smile, keeping his hands raised to ward off any unwanted touching. She looked like she was about to pass out.

“I know that I didn’t truly die after that bus ran me over,” she continued rapturously. Klaus winced. “for as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive. I learned that from you, Prophet. I cannot thank you enough.” 

“Actually, you can!” Klaus seized his opportunity, lowering his hands and really turning on his best cult leader charm. “I would  _ so  _ appreciate it if you could help me find this really sarcastic, really annoying, really goth guy named Ben. He likes reading and making you reconsider your life decisions?” Klaus waved his hand in the air, “about yea high, crazy about hair gel.” 

“I might know who you’re talking about,” the woman said, stepping closer to Klaus. He took a step backwards. “I can take you to him.” 

Before he could stop her, she took his GOODBYE hand—her skin felt cold and hard, and Klaus had to fight himself not to pull away—and lead him through a cornfield, which turned into a hotel lobby, which became a perfect recreation of Klaus’ cult’s house in the sixties. 

He wondered what Dave’s heaven would look like. Before, he would’ve known the answer: him. Now, he had no idea. Another man? Another woman? The place where Dave had grown old if he somehow survived the war, or his childhood home? 

More importantly, Klaus reminded himself, what did Ben’s heaven look like? His room at the Umbrella Academy? The Donut Shop?

Then his lovely cult member was pulling him into the massive circular lobby of the Argyle Public Library, where Ben had begged him to go and turn the pages of some boring book whenever he was lucid enough to take the bus. Where Ben had first discovered audiobooks and forced Klaus into playing them before he passed out completely. The only place, really, where Ben had smiled more than he’d looked disapproving or hurt. Klaus didn’t know why he’d ever considered anywhere else. Of course Ben was in there. Finally reading on his own. 

Klaus almost wished he could stay there with Ben, just reading stupid boring books and not worrying about saving the world or being a link between the physical and ghostly realms. Then again, the rest of their family was back in the mortal realm, probably roughing up his dead body right now. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown a bit fond of them. They were better than his cult, at least, and he didn’t think it’d be quite fair to leave them for a library. Besides, if their plan—who was he kidding, Five’s plan—worked, Ben wouldn’t be staying, either. 

“Do you have any more words of wisdom for us, prophet?” The cultist was gripping his hand so hard that he was afraid. Afraid half of her head would drop off, or her neck would fall out of alignment, and she’d devolve into one of the ghosts that surrounded him every sober day of his life. 

“Oh, um, yes! I do, in fact, have more words of wisdom for you. And those words of wisdom are—” He wanted to give her something that could, possibly, be construed as being meaningful. After all, whatshername had been his loyal follower. She deserved something to mull over for the rest of her pitiful afterlife. “We all had our reasons to be there! We all had a thing or two to learn! We all needed something to cling to! So,” He spread his arms wide to punctuate the last few words, “we  _ did _ .” 

He’d never really  _ understood  _ Alanis Morisette, not when he was sober, and  _ definitely  _ not when he was high, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the girl finally released his arm—apparently in awe of his genius—and without her cold skin on his his, he could finally breathe. Metaphorically, of course, because he was dead, at least for the next…how many minutes? How long had he wasted spouting song lyrics? 

For the first time, he wished he’d caved when Ben kept pestering him to get a watch. 

“You start one tiny cult,” he grumbled to himself, suddenly on the second floor and searching through the shelves for a familiar figure in a hoodie. Were the shelves this tall in real life?

“I don’t think your cult can be described as tiny. Tiny-minded? Maybe.” 

“It’s  _ small-minded _ ,” Klaus said, spinning around and looking at the ceiling, like maybe he’d find the source of Ben’s voice there. But the ceiling was just an open circle looking up at the third floor, and Ben was nowhere to be found. “Your insults are pathetic.” 

“At least I’m not the one who started a cult.” Ben’s voice was definitely coming from his right. Klaus ran down the nearest aisle, whipping his head from side to side, but there were only books. The shelves seemed to go on forever. Klaus almost expected someone to start shooting at him; this place definitely had the ambiance. 

“Hey, I couldn’t have done it without you and your ghosty powers. If you hadn’t, y’know, died, you could’ve made a good ballerina. Or a strongman. One of the two.” 

“I regret not dropping you more.” Suddenly, Ben was in front of him. Slouching, hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, hood down. His clothing was black, of course, but there seemed to be just the slightest highlight of blue in his hair. Just a bit of tan in his cheeks. Just a sliver of hope. “So,” he asked, “how did it happen?” 

“Well, see, there was this old lady, and one day I just happened to quote a song that hadn’t actually been written yet—”

“No,” Ben interrupted, and Klaus was almost grateful. He couldn’t remember much about how his cult was formed, something about withdrawal and culture shock and grief and all that. “Klaus, how did you die?” 

“Oh.” Klaus had almost forgotten, just for a moment. “Yeah. It was Allison.” 

“Allison.” Ben raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah. I ‘heard a rumor’ that I was dead,” he said, sketching air quotes and putting on his best Allison Hargreaves impression, which sounded like an even breathier Marilyn Monroe. Klaus regretted not meeting her, back in the sixties. “Of course Luther wanted to bash my head in, and then Diego tried to cut some kind of jungle artery, but it was Allison in the end.” 

Ben sighed. “I’m surprised it wasn’t Five.”

“Oh, I know! All that talk about being an assassin.” 

“How much time do you have before you go back?” Ben didn’t seem to be looking at Klaus. Maybe at his left ear, but definitely not at him. Klaus leaned to the left, and Ben’s eyes shifted even more. 

“How did you know that I’m going back?” If Klaus leaned any further, he’d fall into a bookshelf.

“Because Allison never kills someone unless she absolutely has to, not even you. You don’t show any signs of outward trauma, which means she did it in the least damaging way possible. Probably because you’re going to use that wreck that you call a body again. Plus, from what I hear, God just really hates you.” Ben took a deep breath, and Klaus was kind of impressed with how realistic it looked. “So, Klaus, just tell me why you’re here.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.” 

It came out in a rush, and that wasn’t what Klaus was supposed to say. That wasn’t part of the speech Five had made him memorize, and it hadn’t been factored into the plan. He was using up his allotted five minutes, and Five would probably kill him again if he came back to life without convincing Ben to come back, too.

“I know,” Ben said, switching his gaze from Klaus’ ear to the floor. Klaus felt something stirring in his stomach, grief or anger or maybe despair. 

“I looked everywhere. I asked every single ghost in a five mile radius. Half of them tried to kill me.” 

“I know.” 

“You were there, every day, every single day, through everything. And then—” Klaus broke himself off, before he started screaming or crying, or both. “You didn’t even say goodbye,” he finished in a near whisper. 

“I know, Klaus.”

“You totally violated my privacy, by the way. Do you know how it is to have something else controlling your body? It’s just…” Klaus gave a full body shiver. 

“I’m literally the Horror, Klaus. So yeah, I know. And I did.” 

“Then why aren’t you apologizing? It’s no fun to be angry at you when you’re just standing there like a mannequin!” Klaus paused. He didn’t even know if he was angry, if he’d ever been angry. He’d spent so much of his life trying  _ not  _ to feel things…emotions were hard to figure out. “Don’t tell Five I said that, about the mannequin. But still, you haven’t seen me in, what, seventy years? Why aren’t we having one of those big dramatic teary reunions?” 

“They’ve never really been our style.” Ben was hunched over into himself, hands in his pockets and head bowed. “It’s not like you let me have a reunion with my family. You know, when I was right there, and you said that ghosts couldn’t time travel.” 

“Oh, don’t you turn this around on me, Number Six.” Their numbers, the names on their birth certificates, was the Hargreeves equivalent of middle-naming. Klaus hoped that Ben felt the sting of those words. But he was also just so happy that Ben, the real Ben, still responded to his real number. Not this Number One shit going on with fake Ben. 

“No, Klaus, if you deserve an apology, so do I.” No numbers. Ben wasn’t pissed, just sad. 

“I had a reason,” Klaus said defensively. Ben just stared at the ground, but he was definitely raising an eyebrow. Ben and his stupid eyebrows. “I…oh, fuck you, Ben. I’d been living with a cult for the last three years, and you were the only real thing left in my life. I didn’t want everyone else to know about you, because then they’d never shut up about wanting to talk to you and  _ Klaus, what does Ben say  _ and all that shit. You’re my best friend, Benny. I didn’t….I couldn’t…” 

“Wow.” For the first time since he’d died, Ben sounded genuinely surprised. “That was a really weird apology but…yeah, thanks, I guess. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You sure?” Klaus didn’t know why he cared. Ben was dead,  _ he  _ was dead, and this wasn’t part of his mission. Was this what being a family felt like? 

“You’re my best friend too, for the record.” 

Klaus honestly hadn’t been expecting that. Ben and he had hung out in real life, sure. Stupid late night runs to the donut shop, commiserating about how horrible their powers were, silent pats on the back after particularly bad missions. But during his real life, Ben had always been closer to Five, or Vanya, or even Diego. Klaus thought that he might’ve ranked above Luther, but just by default. 

“Are you sure it isn’t Stockholm?”

“No, moron. Shut up.” Klaus couldn’t stop a tiny smile from creeping up on him. He was Ben’s best friend. Wait till he rubbed that in Five’s tiny face. “And Klaus, I hope you know that I am sorry. I do miss you. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. You’ll be gone in a couple of minutes, anyway, and I’ll see you again. At some point. I’ll try to write out a nice speech before then, okay?” 

“No.”

“What?” 

“No, Ben. Don’t talk like you’ve already given up. Our daddy didn’t raise no quitters!” 

“Did we grow up in the same family? Everyone but Luther quit the academy. Diego quit his police training to be a masked vigilante. You quit the cult you  _ started _ . Allison—” 

“Whatever. You may be my all-time favorite ghost, but I’m still pissed at you, Ben,” Ben’s eyes, which had crept up to Klaus’ neck, instantly snapped back to the floor. “But we can talk about all that once we’re back. Have a little family therapy session, maybe get Five to talk about his feelings or something.” 

“We?” Ben asked. “Klaus, I’m dead. Like, completely dead. There’s no way for you to bring me back.” 

“Right,” Klaus said. “But there is a way for  _ you  _ to bring you back.” 

“What?” Ben asked again, dumb eyebrows rising almost to his stupid, gelled hairline. “I think you’re getting our powers mixed up.  _ You’re  _ the one who deals with dead people.” 

“And you’re the one who can summon beings from another dimension. And you’ve crossed over into the light, also known as heaven, also known as an alternate dimension. At least, according to Five and his fifteen whiteboards worth of math. So what are you now, Benny Boy, but a creature from another dimension?” 

“Klaus, this is crazy. I can’t summon myself.” 

“Yes, but when we were back in the sixties, we  _ really  _ fucked up the timeline, and now there’s another version of you prancing around. Looks like season three Zuko meets Inigo Montoya.”

There had been a TV at Klaus’ third rehab. Klaus—and, by extension, Ben—had sat in front of the tiny screen for hours, watching whatever happened to be playing. Ben had especially liked Avatar. Klaus had been partial to any show with ghosts, just so he could yell insults when the writers got something wrong. He’d left the day that the new Allison Hargreeves movie came on, with her name splashed right above the title, and people had started to make connections. He’d overdosed that night, and Ben hadn’t talked to him for two weeks. 

“Anyways, he’s Number One, and he’s alive, and Five says he can summon you no problemo.” 

“ _ What? _ ”

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Klaus said, finally slipping into his memorized spiel, mostly so he could tell Five that yes, of  _ course  _ he said it. “I’m going to come back to life, somewhere in…oh, maybe the next minute. Then a magical portal or something is going to open up, or maybe you reach deep inside yourself and unlock your secret powers, or whatever. So you’ll go from this dimension to ours and then into the body of your alternate universe grunge rock self. And both of us know just how good you are at possessing a body, so...” 

“How do you know he’s just going to let me in? I couldn’t possess you unless you were willing.” 

Klaus tactfully refrained from pointing out that he’d been less than willing two out of three times, and he’d had to projectile vomit Ben out the third. He had plenty of time to argue with Ben once they were both semi-alive again, but he only had about a minute left right now. 

“Allison’s going to rumor him. He’ll let you in.” 

“Wow.” Ben bit his lip. “What if I can’t come back? What if I’m just stuck in limbo forever?” 

“Hey,” Klaus said. “If you could get into heaven the first time, after making my life literal hell, you can do it again. And if you don’t, I’ll just get on God’s nerves until she lets you in anyway.”

“I missed you,” Ben said in a rush, suspiciously shiny eyes finally meeting Klaus’. “I missed you so much, Klaus…” 

And then they were hugging. And unlike his devoted cultist, Ben’s skin was warm. So warm. 

“So,” Klaus’ voice was muffled by Ben’s stupid, unnecessary, tacky leather jacket. He loved that jacket. “Are we having that tearful reunion now? The one you said we’d never have?” 

“Shut up,” Ben said, voice breaking, and Klaus felt what might’ve actually been a tear on the back of his neck. Could dead people cry? “Oh my god, just shut up.” 

“You called?” Klaus had realized that his time was up. He knew that She’d be showing up soon. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But it was only Ben’s arms around his shoulders that stopped him from doing something incredibly stupid, like trying to attack God. 

“It’s called a colloquialism,” Klaus said, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Ben. “Isn’t it, Ben?” 

“Not even close.” 

“Nobody asked you, asshole.” Klaus didn’t know what he’d done without Ben. Nobody to correct him, nobody to give him thoughtful answers when he asked stupid questions…he’d given up counting the number of times he’d looked over his shoulder to get confirmation or share a joke in the last few weeks. 

“I don’t like you,” God said, crossing Her arms. She didn’t have a hat or a bicycle today, but Klaus definitely recognized that disapproving expression. 

“I think you’ve made that abundantly clear.” 

“I don’t want you here.” 

“Feel free to put me back.” 

“I won’t do it every time, you know. Next time, I might just let you stay dead.” 

“Basically, don’t die,” Ben said, clicking his tongue at Klaus. 

“You’re one to talk!” 

“I died  _ once _ . You’ve died over five times.” 

“Oh, come on. Three of those hardly even count. I was gone for, what, thirty seconds?” 

“I don’t know how to explain this to you, Klaus, but dying for thirty seconds is, by definition, dying.” 

“I don’t know how to explain this to you, Ben, but you’re the worst person I’ve ever met.” 

“I like you,” God said, turning to Ben. The ribbon on the back of Her dress swished behind Her, and Klaus wondered if he should get a dress with a ribbon on the back. He didn’t think he could tie it, but maybe Allison would help him? Or Diego? 

“Are we even talking about the same person?” Klaus asked God. Sure, he might’ve said that Ben was his best friend and cried on his shoulder. But he had an annoying sibling reputation to uphold. “Have you  _ met  _ Ben?” 

“Drop dead,” Ben said, with just the tiniest smile. 

“Low blow,” Klaus responded, biting his lower lip to try and contain his laughter. Because yeah, maybe he’d just disrespected Her, but laughing at an inside joke in front of the Lord and Creator of the universe just seemed rude. 

“That’s funny!” God said, laughing for the first time since Klaus had met Her. She scrunched her nose up when She giggled, just like Vanya used to. “I really do like you, Ben.” 

“Um, thanks,” Ben said awkwardly. “I’m a fan of your work.” 

“You can go, if you want,” She said. “I know all about your plan, and it might work, so if you want to go I won’t stop you. I’m not giving him a choice.” 

“Thanks,” Ben said again. He looked almost as overwhelmed as he had when Reginald had told him  _ good job  _ after a mission. “See you on the other side, I guess.” 

“Right back at you,” Klaus said, shooting Ben some finger guns. God rolled Her eyes. 

“Bye,” She said, flicking Her fingers. Ben’s face faded out, small smile and hopeful eyes, and then back in with a flared nostrils and wild eyes like a spooked horse. 

Even though Klaus had been expecting it, it still took him a moment to figure out what was going on. He was slumped in a corner, ears ringing and head spinning. God certainly hadn’t made the whole coming back to life thing a peaceful transition. It wasn’t as bad as withdrawal, but it could give any hangover a run for its money. 

He was looking forward to recuperating in a nice long bath later tonight, in the hotel room they’d gotten courtesy of a rumor. Just him and his music, and the twenty-odd random ghosts crowded around the bathtub. Maybe, this time, he’d add some bath salts…

And then a blur of silver came flying through the air and impaled itself in the musty brickwork, barely a quarter of an inch from his cheek. He jerked his head away, realizing a second too late that sudden movements wouldn’t help his dizziness or nausea at all. He closed his eyes to try and ground himself. At least he could take deep breaths again. 

“Oh, shit!” Diego shouted, from somewhere in front of Klaus. “He’s back!” 

Klaus heard several more thunks, felt the impact of the knives hitting the wall behind his head. He tried to bring his hands up to protect his face, but stopped when he heard an awful tearing sound. He looked down, and groaned. His new favorite shirt—Allison’s new favorite shirt—was pinned to the wall by almost ten knives of varying sizes, and a cut on his left ring finger was beginning to ooze blood, courtesy of his newly-beating heart.  _ Welcome back to life _ , he thought ruefully.

“So?” Five asked, watching Klaus struggle with a sardonic smile.

“He’s going to try to come back,” Klaus said, wincing as Diego jerked the knife out of the wall, almost slashing his cheek like knockoff Ben’s. “God thinks he has a chance, gave him Her permission and everything.” 

Five let out a relieved breath. “Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands briskly together. His smile softened just a bit, which in Five language was practically a conga. 

“Did he say anything else?” Vanya asked. She was leaning forward, hair almost covering her face, and Klaus suddenly remembered that she’d been the last one to see Ben. And because Vanya blamed herself for everything, she probably blamed herself for his kinda-second death. Ben wouldn’t want that. 

“Just that he misses you guys,” Klaus said. Even he wasn’t enough of an idiot to hold his confirmed best-friendship over the person who’s powers had almost caused the apocalypse three times now. Or the trained assassin. Or the guy holding a very sharp knife a couple inches from his neck. “And he’s looking forward to coming back so that he can tell you in person.” 

“Wow, that was actually…nice. Thanks, Klaus.” Allison looked surprised, but good surprised, Klaus thought. Maybe the cult really had improved his conversational skills. 

“I guess there’s only one thing left to do now,” Luther said. “It’s all up to you, Number Three.” 

Allison nodded. She was still smiling, but something about it was forced. The entire success of this plan rested on her shoulders. She’d been practicing the exact wording for hours, inadvertently causing random people on the streets to try to summon Ben from a parallel dimension, but it was a huge task. Klaus knew how she felt. Despite his carefully cultivated reputation as the incapable junkie, the first part of the plan had hinged completely on him and his sometimes rocky relationship with Ben. He hadn’t realized how much that had terrified him until just now. 

“You can do it, Ally,” he said, smiling at her. A real one this time. 

“Thanks, Klaus.” Her mouth set into a grim line, and she stepped forwards, towards fake Ben. His eyes got even wilder, he started to twist away. He’d obviously realized how intimidating Allison was, how incredibly badass. Klaus thought he heard a snap, maybe a rib, and he wanted to tell this imposter to keep this body in good condition for his brother. 

“No,” fake Ben murmured. “No, no, no, no—” 

“ _ I heard a rumor _ …that you brought our brother back.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I enjoyed writing this one. Dialogue between Ben and Klaus is always super fun, and I did enjoy figuring out song lyrics that could conceivably be religious teachings. One of my favorite parts was the contrast between Sparrow!Ben and UA!Ben, with their reactions and mannerisms. For example, Sparrow!Ben would've been a LOT more upset if one of his siblings had killed another. 
> 
> Please, please let me know how you liked it! I appreciated all of your comments on the last chapter so much, and they absolutely make my day every single time. No pressure if you don't feel up to it, but a comment would mean SO much. Thanks!! Stay safe. Love you all.


	3. Ben (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sixty years of death, Ben's back. And he's tied to a chair with duct tape, and his siblings are refusing to let him out until he proves his identity. Plus, there's this little voice at the back of his head that just won't shut up. 
> 
> But most worryingly of all, he may just have forgotten how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd like to thank the fantastic n0ts0sane (on tumblr), for an awful lot of things but mostly for reminding me that I had forgotten to resolve literally everything. Thank you for making this story the coherent thing it is today!

Ben opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. He’d been dead so long, in a land of muted colors and dim lighting, his eyes were completely unprepared for the bright yellow light shining directly into his face. Besides, he had the feeling that even for a normal person, staring at this light was a pretty dumb thing to do. He felt like his corneas were being burnt out by a blowtorch. 

_ (Serves you right.)  _

He slammed his eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. Then he remembered that this wasn’t nothingness, this was  _ oxygen.  _ The last time he’d been in a living, breathing body, Klaus’ mind had still been on the back burner taking care of the basic motor functions. If he didn’t count—in, out, in, out—he might asphyxiate before he got to appreciate being alive again. 

Then he noticed the pain in his chest, worse than anything he’d experienced in—how long? And for a moment he was convinced that the horror was going to come out and murder his entire family in front of him. 

His deep calming breaths turned into panicked hyperventilation—in, in, in, out, in, in, out—and the pain flared every time his chest moved, and moving his chest was difficult to begin with, because there was something wrapped around his torso, binding him to the chair like a straitjacket. And didn’t it just suck that he could still remember exactly what a straitjacket felt like? 

But if the pain only came when his chest moved, then it couldn’t be the horror, could it? Because the horror would never stop, it would push and push until he passed out. It was just a broken rib. Just a broken rib. He pushed down the voice inside his head, the mumbling one that sounded like his own, and tried to do that stupid yoga technique Klaus and all his cultists used to practice every morning. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. 

Man. Living wasn’t easy. 

Once he was fairly confident in his ability to breathe, he opened his eyes again, just the tiniest bit. He was on a chair. Wooden, judging from the rungs pressing into his back. There was that light shining into his eyes, which he figured was some messed-up interrogation technique from Five. And the thing that was wrapped around his chest, keeping him from breathing, was…

“Duct Tape? Seriously? You’re trying to hold in an interdimensional Horror with Duct Tape.” 

“Well, it’s working.” Luther. Number One. Speaking first, probably cutting Klaus off in the process, because he needed to feel like he was the leader to appease his deep-set superiority complex. If Vanya could write a book about her siblings, Ben could publish a series of psychoanalytic research papers. 

“Would you mind taking it off now?” Ben forced himself to remain calm. He reminded himself to breathe in, and then out. There was nothing to be nervous about. Just because he was alive again after somewhere between seventeen and sixty years, and one of his ribs was cracked and he was inside the body of his alternate universe self…yeah. Best not to think about all that. 

“Let’s just leave the duct tape on for now, shall we?” Ben could practically  _ hear  _ Five giving that insincere smile. It was reassuring, in a way, to know Five hadn’t changed completely from when he really was a teenager. Of course, that wouldn’t keep Ben from slapping that smirk off his face once his hands were free and corporeal. 

“What the hell, Five? We did this to get Ben back, and now you want to keep him tied up?” Ben knew that he could count on Klaus, if only because Klaus didn’t want to have died in vain. 

“But how do we know this is Ben? It could be any ghost in there. Or just the Sparrow Academy Ben, pretending to be our Ben.” 

“Exactly. Thank you, Diego.” There was a scraping sound, a grunt from Five, and then Allison’s incredulous voice. 

“Five, put down the…get away from…why do you even  _ have  _ a sledgehammer?” 

“For information!” Five’s voice was strained. There was a loud banging noise, the sound of small rocks falling, and a hiss of pain from Diego. Ben’s eyes hurt from squinting into the light, so he made a conscious effort not to roll them  _ too  _ dramatically. He was beginning to get a headache. 

“Give it to me, Five! You can’t even use it properly. You’re thirteen.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Luther?”

“Oh, no, not again. Five, don’t—”

“ _ I’m the Daddy here. _ ” 

“—say that,” Luther finished lamely. “Great.” 

“What the fuck, Five?” 

“Keep your role-play kink in the bedroom, Five,” Ben said, and Klaus snorted. Then, when Luther made a sound that was probably choking on his own spit and Vanya let out a nervous giggle, Ben remembered that people could  _ hear  _ him now. For a moment he felt kind of bad. He hadn’t been nearly this cutting before he died, especially not to Five. He didn’t want his posthumously cultivated sarcasm to mess up his relationship with his family. 

On the other hand, while he’d lost most of his verbal filter as a ghost, he remembered the basics of social decorum. And Five just should not be saying things like that in public (and  _ especially  _ around his family) if he wasn’t ready to be mocked mercilessly. So, yeah, Ben thought he was completely justified. 

“I do  _ not  _ have a…I have killed more people than the attack on Pearl Harbor. Do you want to be the next?” Ben just  _ knew  _ that Five was baring his fangs, probably raising the sledgehammer above his head or holding some other weapon in an equally threatening gesture. Ben also knew that Five was perfectly capable of killing him with a piece of paper, even before he’d become a trained assassin. 

_ (He’s going to kill me. You’re going to let him kill me!) _

“You slept with a stuffed giraffe until you were eight, Five. And I’d be surprised if you really want to kill me, after all the work you did to bring me back.” 

Something heavy fell with a crash. Probably the sledgehammer, maybe Diego judging by the metallic sound. Vanya started to snicker, and Ben could tell that she was holding her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, just like she used to when Ben would make a face at her during dinner. There were a few heavy steps, a scuffle, and Five’s incoherent yell. Then Five was standing over him, holding the sledgehammer over his head with shaking arms. One blow and Ben would be dead, brains splattered across the walls, doomed yet again to be a restless spirit with only Klaus as company. 

And Five called himself the mature one. Ben rolled his eyes again, and let out a heavy huff of breath that he was really quite proud of creating. At some point, Five had to learn that he couldn’t just brutally murder everyone who disagreed with him. 

“Five.” Allison sounded like a parent seriously considering putting her thirteen-going-on-sixty year old son in a time out. Allison  _ was  _ a parent. Ben always regretted not meeting his niece. “Do you seriously think that attacking The Horror with a sledgehammer is a good idea?” 

The Horror. Ben never knew how to feel about sharing a name with the monster inside his chest. Especially now. Because, as Klaus said, what was he but a creature from another dimension?

_ (You’re just as bad as the Horror. Get out. Get out!)  _

“Actually, let me rephrase,” Allison continued, as a huge shadow that must have been Luther stepped forwards and gently pried the sledgehammer out of Five’s grasp. “Do you think attacking  _ anyone _ with a sledgehammer is a good idea?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just get everyone I don’t like to kill  _ each other  _ for me because I’ve never learned to fight,” Five mocked in such an uncanny impression of Allison, it actually took Ben a moment to figure out who was talking. 

“Hey, at least my fighting strategy isn’t just running away.” 

“Don’t argue,” Vanya mumbled, and then everyone was arguing. 

“Your idea!” Luther yelled. “If you hadn’t…”

“…weeks and we haven’t found Laila…”

“Oh yeah? Well  _ you’re  _ the one who killed—“

“That was self defense!”

_ (LET ME OUT!) _

“…and then you just  _ had  _ to dance…”

“…rivers and lakes that you’re used to!” 

“It was adaptation, you…”

“Yeah? Well how about that time in the Library?” 

“I didn’t  _ make  _ you do anything! I just…"

The library. It had only been ten minutes, but Ben already missed it almost as much as he’d missed his family before. He’d been so close to finishing Newton and Einstein’s new study on the physics of Dark Matter, Five would have loved it. He also had a guilty pleasure Colleen McCullough set by the side…he doubted he’d remember which one it was long enough to finish it whenever he died again. 

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Klaus’ voice seemed three times as loud as usual, echoing off the walls and holding the authority of the soldier people kept forgetting he was. “We don’t need a sledgehammer to know that this is Ben, okay?  _ Our  _ Ben.” 

Ben would never tell them how much that affected him, being called  _ our Ben _ , if only as a way to differentiate between him and the proper owner of this body. But he’d been gone for so long, out of sight and mostly out of mind, reduced to a paragon and a badly made statue. Knowing that his family still thought of him as  _ theirs _ …well, it was nice. 

_ (No. I’m Ben. I am Ben. You are not.)  _

_ Shut up _ , Ben told the voice in his head, acknowledging it for the first time. He took a breath, as deep as he could, and forced the other thing in his body back to a tiny corner of his consciousness. The voice faded to a murmur. It was easier than he’d expected, far easier than staying in Klaus’ body or willing the Horror away. He was Ben Hargreeves. He could do this. 

“What do you suggest, Klaus?” Allison asked, almost gently. 

“Why don’t we just  _ ask  _ him?” Ben couldn’t see much outside of Klaus’ blurry outline, but he could imagine the dramatic gestures, the wide eyes. 

“Five should probably take the lead in an interrogation,” Diego said. Diego letting someone else take the lead? This really was an alternate dimension. Or reality. Whatever. 

“No, I don’t think you’re understanding me. We don’t hurt him, we don’t interrogate him, we just go up to him and ask him questions that only he could answer. Okay?” Nobody encouraged him, but nobody spoke up against the plan. Apparently, that was enough for Klaus. “Ben,” he said, and suddenly his face was right in front of Ben’s. Ben didn’t react. After thirteen years, he was completely used to Klaus appearing in front of him at random moments. 

“Yeah?” 

“Ben…” Klaus took his face between both hands, and Ben melted into the human touch. Klaus’ voice was grave and dramatic, which probably meant that he was about to say something completely inane, insane, or both. “Drop dead.” 

Luther choked, Five gave an incredulous laugh, Allison gasped, “Klaus, that’s horrible!” 

Ben fought himself, pulled down the corners of his mouth, bit his tongue. But in the end, he had to smile. The stupid, annoying, and honestly quite offensive joke had been going on for over ten years now and at some point, it had become unironically funny. 

“Low blow,” he said. Even with the bright light shining in his eyes, he could see Klaus’ smile. 

“Yeah,” Klaus said, letting go of Ben’s face to pull at a strip of duct tape around his chest. “It’s him.” 

“How do you know it’s him?” Vanya asked. 

“Because I danced with him once upon a dream,” Klaus deadpanned. Ben pulled his mouth into a tight line, and gave Klaus a look that said  _ you are such a disappointment. _ “Because I’ve been hanging out with him for fifteen years or something, Vanny, and that’s the exact face he’s pulled every single time I make a joke.” 

“Only when you make a bad joke.” 

“No, you do it every…you suck, Ben, and I wish you were still dead. But yeah, it’s definitely him.” 

“So, you’re asking us to just trust your judgement call?” Luther asked skeptically. “I mean, you are getting better, but your judgement calls haven’t been all that reliable in the past.” 

“Hey, which one of us went to a rave and didn’t notice when the other one of us died?” 

“How many times do you have to bring that up?” Luther growled. 

“I said I was sorry,” Ben said at the same time. 

“Anyway, yeah,” Klaus continued, as if nobody had spoken, “I am asking you to trust my judgement. I know Ben better than I know anyone else, except maybe Dave. And Ben knows literally everything about me. Come on, ask him something!” Ten seconds of silence. “You guys are just no fun. Ben, what is my favorite prime number?” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s ridiculous to have a favorite prime number. Even worse, you  _ lie  _ about your favorite prime number. You say it’s 131, but it’s actually seven. And the only reason you know what prime numbers are, like, at all is because of that math teacher.” 

“Ah yes,” Klaus said reminiscently, “Mr. Deerborne. Kinky bastard. Didn’t you want me to report him to the school board?” 

“He made you pretend to be a…you know what, Klaus, let’s go back to the whole never talking about it again deal.” 

“You brought it up!” 

“I’m not listening.”

“I rest my case,” Klaus said, turning away from Ben. Ben shut his eyes against the light. “This is him, guys. I never told anyone else my favorite prime number.” 

“ _ That’s  _ what you’re taking away from this conversation?” Diego asked, stalling for just a second over the ‘th’ sound. “Ben, where do I find this pervert?” 

“I don’t know if he exists in this reality,” Ben said, almost monotone, trying to keep the desperate hope that his family  _ finally  _ believed who he was out of his voice. “And even if he does, he’s never met Klaus.” 

“That doesn’t mean he won’t meet me,” Diego said darkly. 

“So you believe him, too?” Luther asked. 

Diego didn’t respond. Instead, he asked, “Ben, why did I tell you to keep possessing Klaus?” 

Ben silently thanked Diego for not making him say  _ Luther sniffs Dad’s underwear  _ in front of his entire family. “You told me that you needed someone responsible behind the wheel.” 

“Very uncool, by the way,” Klaus said quietly. Ben wanted to apologize, but he’d already done that and Klaus had already forgiven him, as best he could. Sure, they could have some big fight and make up later, but for now it was best to just keep Klaus from dwelling on it. The less Klaus thought about something, the less it bothered him. 

“Remember that skirt you got from Macy’s?” Ben asked Klaus, and Klaus gave a semi-sexual moan of pleasure that meant that he definitely remembered the skirt, then started mumbling something about swishyness and floatyness and rainbows. Ben could guarantee that the whole possession thing had lifted right out of his mind, much like Klaus had lifted the skirt from a Macy’s mannequin in the display window while Ben had kept watch. 

And yeah, Ben may have developed a prickly exterior, an expected side effect of being a dead child superhero pop culture icon. But underneath the leather jacket and the sarcasm and the frown, Ben was really still just a kid who had died too young, and Klaus was still his brother. And maybe every once in a while, he wanted to talk about skirts to make his brother happy. So sue him. 

“It’s him,” Diego said over Klaus’ muttering, and Ben’s heart leapt in his chest. He’d forgotten what a beating heart felt like, jolting around inside his ribs (well, at least his by proxy). He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to that sensation. Or just sensation in general. 

“Wow, it’s like I’ve been telling you that the entire time.” 

“Shut up, Klaus.” Ben heard the scraping noise of one of Diego’s knives being drawn, and felt the cold steel against his skin. Cold. He’d been cold the day he died, but it hadn’t been cold when he’d possessed Klaus. He’d remembered the abstract feeling of cold, that it made him want to shiver, but the actual feeling was almost overwhelming. The ropes around his hands fell away, scratching against his skin on the way down, and he shivered again. He brought his hands around to the front of his body, and reflexively began to massage his upper arms to get the blood flowing again. He had  _ blood _ . This was all so weird. 

“Thanks,” he said, sounding completely overwhelmed. Probably because he was. 

“No problem, bro.” 

Bro. Diego had called him bro. Ben had always had impeccable self control (because he’d had to, or else eldritch Horrors would’ve killed his entire family every time they annoyed him), but it was taking everything he had to keep from crying like Klaus did every time he saw a kitten. 

“Can you get this duct tape off now?” Ben asked, and was proud when his voice barely shook. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two minutes?” Klaus asked, offended. 

“And maybe turn off the light?” 

“Oh yeah,” Diego said, sounding vaguely embarrassed. “Sorry about that, man.” 

The light rotated until it was shining at the wall instead of directly into Ben’s eyes, and once he’d blinked the floating spots out of his vision, there was Klaus. Eyeliner running, biting his lip in concentration, kneeling at Ben’s feet and picking at a piece of duct tape with his chipped black fingernails. And there was Diego, long hair tucked behind his ears, knife belt secured over a bright orange button down shirt. Luther, still wearing that same ratty overcoat, but with his shoulders just a bit more relaxed than before. 

Allison was almost on top of Ben, and he wondered how long he’d been gone (he knew it was over sixty years at this point, but how long had it been for  _ them _ ?) because her hair was back to its natural curl. Behind her, Five was sulking near the wall, hand resting on the handle of a gigantic sledgehammer nearly the same height as Five himself. He was still wearing the Umbrella Academy uniform, as was Ben. Ben wondered if there was a goodwill or something nearby with a nice selection of black leather jackets. Maybe Klaus would steal one for him. 

Huddled into a corner, the furthest away from Ben, stood Vanya. She was gripping her elbows with the opposite hands, chin tucked to her chest, hair falling over her face. She seemed to be actively trying not to look at Ben. 

Ben remembered the last time he’d seen Vanya. How she’d given him the hug he’d been craving for so many years, held onto him and given him the strength he needed to finally move on. He didn’t regret giving up his ghost-hood to help her. He hoped that she didn’t blame herself for helping him. 

“Are you sure we should be letting him out?” Five asked. “He’s been dead for a while. He might’ve lost his ability to control the Horror.” 

Sure, it was a fair question from a concerned party. Five could easily die if Ben wasn’t completely in control, of both the Horror and his alternate self. But Ben  _ was  _ in control. He’d been in control every single day of his life, and every single day of his death. Keeping the Horror from getting out, calming his temper whenever Klaus did something completely stupid, learning to deal with total helplessness, keeping himself from going down that slippery slope that would make him just like every other ghost. He hadn’t done the impossible to have his skills questioned by his brother. 

“I trained my entire life  _ and  _ my entire death, and you’re saying that duct tape can do a better job?” 

“Fair point.” Five was nothing if not logical. Even as a kid, he’d weighed every single pro and con before deciding, say, what type of donut he wanted. Ben had usually done the same thing. 

“So you’ll let me out.” 

“No. You may have convinced Klaus and Diego, but if you really are who you say you are, you know as well as I do that they let their emotions get the better of them. So before you get out, you’ll have to prove it to me.” 

_ Seriously?  _ Ben wanted to say.  _ You ran away from home on an impulse and then put your family’s lives ahead of the entire world multiple times. Also, you just got angry and tried to kill me with a sledgehammer. Sure, Five, you’ve never let your emotions get away from you.  _

“Canned spaghetti,” he said instead. Five’s face blanched. He took a seemingly involuntary step backwards, tripped over his own feet, and would’ve fallen on the floor if Luther hadn’t caught him by the shoulders. 

Ben had been waiting to use that line for a while, ever since he’d overheard Five talking to his own decapitated statue. If overheard was the right word…Five had technically been talking to him, so he hadn’t intruded, right? Anyway, Ben so wished he’d been able to say those words to Five before, let him know that he really wasn’t so alone. He’d been so close in Dallas, but Klaus had vomited him out and then he’d gone into the light. 

“Ben,” Five whispered. “It’s…I can’t believe…”

“I think you can let me out now,” Ben said. If he was going to have a dramatic tearful reunion with Five (and, honestly, he’d rarely wanted anything more), he’d rather do it in private. He tried to communicate this to Five with a look—really, not being able to just say anything on his mind was already getting on his nerves—and Five nodded. 

“Let him out,” He confirmed. Klaus set to work with renewed vigor, and Diego started to saw through the tape with one of his knives. How many layers had they put on? 

“Hi, Ben,” Allison said, draping her arms over his neck and pecking him on the cheek. “It’s been a while.” 

“Yeah,” he said, finally letting himself smile. “I missed you, Ally. Thank you, for helping me get back.” 

“Hey, we’re family. It’s what we do.” 

“Ben,” Luther said awkwardly. “Sorry I didn’t believe you were…y’know.” 

“Whatever,” Ben said. All those years of only being able to talk to Klaus, having his existence denied by the rest of his family—especially Luther—and learning to live as a helpless bystander…they’d been hard. Very hard. But they were over now, and Luther was looking  _ right at him _ and he was really a part of the family again. They had time to fight later. “It’s fine. Nice to see you, Number One.” 

“Yeah,” Luther said, swiping a tear from his eye with a crooked smile. “Nice to see you, too.” 

Luther knelt down and started picking at the duct tape. Allison sank down to the floor, hand sliding down Ben’s arm and lightly clasping his own hand. Only Vanya was left, huddled in the corner, all alone. Ben wondered whether anyone else had even noticed. 

“Vanya,” Ben called softly. She raised her head, just a bit. Ben recognized that look. Guilt, grief, despair. “Thank you,” he said. She bit her lip and nodded. There would be time for more, later, but at least she knew he didn’t blame her. 

Piece after piece of duct tape was ripped away. Diego slashed with his knives, Luther ripped through the tape with brute force, Klaus continued doggedly pulling at the same piece he’d been working on for the last ten minutes. Vanya—reluctantly coming out of her corner—used the bare minimum of her powers to peel back layer after layer. Ben tried to help from the inside, but it was kind of hard making his muscles work. This version of him was built a bit differently, or he’d just forgotten how to move physical objects after seventy years in Heaven, or whatever that other dimension was. Besides, Allison was still holding one of his hands from her seat on the floor, and he couldn’t bring himself to let go. 

“Jesus, did you use every roll of duct tape in the country?” Ben asked, as his siblings collectively peeled back what must’ve been the twelfth layer. 

“We strive to provide our hostages with the best treatment,” Klaus said seriously. “We used twenty rolls.” 

“And you didn’t worry about getting it off afterwards?” Diego shrugged. Ben sighed. “What was I thinking? Of course you didn’t.” 

Another couple of layers went by in silence. 

“So, why did you bring me back?” Ben asked Five. 

“You’re our brother,” Diego said immediately. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“No,” Ben said. Allison’s hand tensed in his, and he wondered when in his death he’d become such a pragmatist. “You wouldn’t kidnap the head of the Sparrow Academy and kill Klaus on the off-chance you could bring me back to life. There must be something you need me to do.” 

“How did you know it’s called the Sparrow Academy?” Allison asked skeptically, starting to withdraw her hand. 

“Ally,” Ben said, grasping her fingers even more tightly. He’d be damned if he was going to give up human contact after all this time. “It’s okay. He told me.” 

“Who told you?” Five asked, raising both eyebrows. Interested. 

“Him,” Ben said, pointing at his head. “He’s still in here, and he’s been yelling a lot. Does  _ not  _ like you guys, by the way. But I think you already knew that, right, Five?” 

“You’re right,” Five said, looking at the ground. “I brought you back so that you could go undercover, inside his head. It was the only way to gain information about the Sparrow Academy.” 

“ _ Five! _ ” Allison gasped. Diego’s hand twitched towards his knife belt. But to Ben’s surprise, it was Klaus who slammed Five up against the wall, moving so quickly that he almost seemed to have exchanged powers with Five himself. 

“Is that all Ben is?” Klaus asked, voice steely. “A spy? You killed me so you could have a spy?” 

“I…” Five started, but Klaus slammed his head backwards against the wall. 

“Shut up,” he snarled. Ben could see the soldier—Reginald Hargreeves’ and the Vietnam War’s—in Klaus making its way out, and he knew that things could get very bad, very soon. 

“Klaus!” Ben yelled. “Stop.” 

Klaus looked over at him, looked back at Five, and reluctantly let Five’s feet drop to the floor. His muscles were still tensed, however, and his jaw was still set. The situation was far from diffused. 

Five was still staring at the floor. His face was hidden in shadows, but Ben thought he might just have seen a tear sliding down his cheek. 

“He was trying to protect you,” Ben said, “all of you. The Sparrows are dangerous. I don’t think you know how dangerous. He would’ve torn you apart if I hadn’t somehow been able to take control of the Horror, and his siblings are even worse. Five’s right, I’m the only one who can do this.”

“Wait, you were able to control the Horror from Heaven?” Diego asked. “Dude, that’s crazy.” 

It had been crazy. Ben had been halfway through a brand new Agatha Christie when he’d gotten the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. His family were in danger, and it was somehow his fault. The next few minutes had been a blur, like it always was when the Horror was involved. All he knew was that there were people attacking his family, and he needed to attack. It wasn’t a battle of wills against the Horror, like before. It was like they were thinking with one mind, striking with the same movements, picking the same targets. There was blood, there was always blood, but for once Ben wasn’t afraid. He’d  _ wanted  _ to hurt these people. 

“I mean, it makes sense,” Luther said. “He could still use the Horror when he was dead.” 

It was only when Klaus had shown up and told him about this other-him that it had started to make sense. He’d known his family was in danger, and he’d kept the Horror from attacking them. 

“But what about the timelines, and dimensions, and whatever? Does the Horror even know who Ben is anymore?” 

Sure, they say love transcends dimensions. But so does the  _ protect your siblings, defeat the enemy _ mentality that Ben—and maybe even the Horror—had been trained to adopt from a young age. It made sense that Ben would do anything in his power to save his family. He knew he’d continue to protect them for as long as he possibly could. He just hoped that nobody would make him explain it—he’d probably get all mushy and Five might throw up.

“But the Horror doesn’t care about timelines, right?” 

“All you need to know is that I can control it,” Ben said. “I’ll be fine, when I go undercover.” 

“Thank you, Ben,” Five whispered, barely audible. He was hunched in on himself, like he was expecting someone to attack him at any minute. It broke Ben’s newly-beating heart. 

“I know that isn’t the only reason he brought me back,” Ben continued, and Luther and Diego fell silent. “He missed me. You all missed me.” His voice cracked, and he bit his lip to hold back tears of his own. 

“I did.” Five’s voice was small and strained. 

“It’s okay, Five,” Vanya said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I know you would’ve brought Ben back, either way.” Five nodded jerkily. 

“In the apocalypse,” he whispered, “after I read your book, before I found Dolores. You said Klaus saw Ben, and I thought maybe....maybe he was there.” 

“Maybe I was,” Ben said. 

And then Vanya’s hand was resting on thin air, and Five had blinked across the room and thrown his arms around Ben’s neck. 

“Don’t you dare die again,” he hissed in Ben’s ear. “Idiot.” 

Ben leaned his chin into Five’s shoulder, soaking up the sensation. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Um,” Klaus said from across the room. “Sorry, and all that.” 

“It’s alright,” Five said, quickly straightening up like he’d just remembered they weren’t alone and angrily swiping his hand over his cheek. “I would’ve done the same, in your position. Let’s just get the rest of this duct tape off, okay?” 

After almost thirty layers of duct tape and who knows how many minutes (Ben had always tried to make Klaus get a watch. Klaus had maintained that time was a construct), the last piece was peeled away. Ben was free.

He stood up in a living body for the first time in decade, the floor moved under his feet like a seismic wave, and he pitched forwards. Six pairs of hands caught him before he fell, and he leaned into Klaus until the room finally stopped spinning. Every breath hurt—he’d been hoping that would stop once the duct tape was gone. Spots swam in his vision. Whether they were from lack of oxygen, dizziness, or aftereffects of the bright light, he couldn’t tell. 

“Hey, Ben,” Five said, patting his back. “You okay, Buddy?” 

“Yeah, peachy,” Ben said automatically. “My legs feel like jello, my eyes might be permanently damaged, and my ribs are broken. I’m great.” 

“You’ve got to work on that sarcasm, brother mine,” Klaus said, lightly flicking him on the side of the head. Ben dug his fingers into Klaus’ ribs, just where he didn’t like it. “People can hear you now, remember.” 

“Oh,” Ben said. “Right. I’m sorry.”  _ Cut me a break,  _ he wanted to add.  _ I’ve been alive for fifteen minutes after being dead for seventy years.  _ But Klaus was right—and wasn’t that an odd sentence? Ben couldn’t just go around blurting out everything on his mind anymore. 

“The ribs might be my fault,” Luther said, his smile falling. “I thought I heard something snap when I grabbed him. I mean, you. Sorry, Ben.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. I just need to get out of here and out of these clothes.” 

“What’s wrong with your clothes?” Five asked, vaguely offended. Ben wondered whether he should apologize again. This was getting exhausting. 

“Don’t worry, Benny,” Klaus said. “When we came up with—alright, when  _ Five  _ came up with this plan, I took the opportunity to go shopping. I got this gorgeous scarf, and just a lovely woven belt, and then I made a special trip to Emo Ex-Ghosts R Us. I tried to get the same jacket and everything. I know it won’t be quite right, but…yeah. I gotcha.” 

For the first time in seventy years, tears gathered in Ben’s eyes. “Thank you, Klaus.” 

“I got some foundation too,” Klaus said, beginning to drag Ben forwards. The rest of their family followed along, supporting Ben as his legs trembled and his vision blurred. “In case you want to cover up the scar.” 

“I have a  _ scar? _ ” 

“Also, I couldn’t remember what kind of shoes you wear. So I just got some heels in my size instead, but I bet you could squeeze into them.” 

“Yeah, I’ll just stick with the shoes I have on. But thanks, Klaus. Really, thanks.” 

“Anything for my favorite brother.” 

“Hey!” Diego and Luther said at the same time. Five glared at Klaus like he was thinking of the twenty most painful ways to kill him. Ben bit back a smile. 

“Don’t be rude,” he told Klaus. “Remember what we talked about? Say things in your head before you say them out loud.” 

“I take it back. I will hate you forever. You’re dead to me.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything, coming from you.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well…shut up, Ben. I can’t argue with you if you’re just going to be reasonable.” 

The conversation devolved into pained grunts and angry swear words as the seven of them all tried to get up the two person stairway at the exact same time. Luther’s head bumped the ceiling, Diego got a mouthful of Allison’s hair, and Ben tripped on every single step because he couldn’t make his knees rise high enough. Five got several elbows to the head, swore several more times, then blinked to the top of the stairs. 

Eventually,  _ finally,  _ they squeezed out of the staircase and staggered across the vast expanse of what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. Luther pulled the gigantic steel doors open, and Ben’s siblings literally dragged him outside because his legs had stopped working about two hundred feet back. But it didn’t matter. His premature death, his upcoming mission, his unfinished novel sitting on a dusty bookshelf somewhere in Heaven—none of it mattered anymore. Because Ben was alive, and he was with his family, and for the first time in decades, he could feel the sun on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. It really means a lot that you would stick with me through a stupidly long hiatus, and your comments and kudos just mean the world. Feel free to add more, if you'd like! I'll appreciate every single one. 
> 
> Love you all, and I hope you enjoyed the story. Stay safe out there! And stay tuned for more installments in the Canned Spaghetti series.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you feel like it, please drop a kudos or a comment...I'll appreciate it so, so much. I have the whole thing written, so I'll be dropping about one chapter per week. 
> 
> This one was really fun for me, because I loved portraying the Hargreeves from an outside perspective! They seem so sweet and awesome to us, but to someone duct taped to a chair who just watched them kill their brother, it's a whole different story lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I love you all. L'shanah Tovah to all my fellow Jews, and happy just-over-a-month-until-halloween to everyone else! Wash your hands and sleep well.


End file.
